It’s November and time to get back into hunting mode. I noticed that new regulations have extended the firearms season for two weeks. Not sure what I think about that? How much hunting I get to do this year remains to be seen, but right now I hope to make an effort. This month we’ll take a ride in the way-back machine to a time when I was doing a lot of hunting in the head of Slate Lick Hollow.
Back then I was studying topographical maps looking for new hunting territory. I noticed odd looking terrain in the head of Slate Lick Hollow and just had to investigate. At that time the road into the hollow was truly a 4×4 ride. After several hunting trips to the area, I discovered that even though there was thick laurel on the north slopes, in certain areas it was low enough that you could see over the top making it huntable. And the old dug-in game trails (if you knew where they were) made travel through the thick laurel ridges relatively easy. The mountain was rugged, but I soon learned the best travel routes and in just a few minutes from the truck I could be in excellent hunting territory. I hunted several years in Slate Lick and managed to tag a few decent bucks there.
I had better get to my story. I decided one morning that I would hunt at the head of a small rocky hollow at the base of a main mountain ridge. Starting before daylight, it took about 20 minutes to get to the point of a ridge where I would still hunt quietly to where I would watch for the rest of the morning. Moving slowly up the side of the ridge along the edge of thick laurel I could account for any activity in the small hollow below. A hundred yards or so before getting to my stand, I crossed over to a hump in the middle of the hollow so that later any deer moving below my stand couldn’t cross my scent trail unless I saw them first. Also, I would not spread my scent along the side of that same ridge where deer would sometimes feed on acorns. At last, at my destination, I settled in for the morning.
It was one of those clear, cold, mornings, with temperatures likely in the teens and very little wind blowing. You could hear for a country mile. The sound of anything that moved seemed amplified in the cold crisp air. I had been on my stand long enough to cool off, and for the cold air to begin creeping through my clothes, when I began hearing a noise on the opposite ridge, across the main hollow. Even at a distance I could tell it was a deer running in the frozen leaves. It was getting closer and seemed to be traveling with a purpose across the far ridge.
When deer jump, they usually crash through the brush, run for a ways, stop for a moment, and either continue running or meander off in a safe direction. I have noticed through the years that an older buck behaves differently. They will run at a fast trot for a distance and then stop to check for danger. That distinct pattern is repeated until they reach their safe area. This deer was doing just that and was heading diagonally in a straight line directly toward me. There was plenty of time to get my gun up and ready with a fairly steady rest as I leaned against the base of a tree. I had a clear field of view below me.
The sound deadened as it dropped into a small hollow but got louder as it crossed through the laurel on the top of the same ridge where I had just walked earlier that morning. Suddenly I could see movement! Through my scope, briefly, in a small open space, I could see a large rack of antlers. This was an exceptional buck! If he kept coming, I would get a shot. But as luck would have it, the buck crossed into the hollow right where I had traveled a short time before. It was like he hit a wall! He didn’t even hesitate! The buck turned abruptly and retraced his steps back in the same direction he came. I could only listen as the sound of his retreat faded away. What a disappointment! If he had only crossed the ridge a few yards higher he wouldn’t have crossed my scent trail and would have come right out to me in the open for a clear shot.
I guess that’s why it’s called “hunting” and not “getting”. At least I knew there was a nice buck in the area. Maybe next time he won’t be so lucky.
R.D. Cullers
Graduate of Bergton Elementary (Class of ’65)
